In Spite of all the Darkness
by gablaar
Summary: When the bodies of teenage girls start appearing next to dumpsters over New York City, the NYPD calls in the FBI. Because Serial Killers are always stopped easier when there's experienced back up on speed-dial, and with bodies starting to pile up, they need to move fast. (warnings inside)


_****__Crime fic / Criminal Minds AU _**written for the Kurt/Blaine Reversebang 2013 originally on tumblr, **and as such, it comes with a shit-ton of warnings -  
(no major) Character death / blood / vomiting / violence / descriptions of crime scenes / serial murder / mentions/discussions of past abuse (physicall & sexual), eating disorders and other mental issues / mentions of non-con / gun violence ... It's a criminal minds au, guys, it's going to get gnarly.  
The art that started this all can be found on my tumblr.

* * *

_"__**I have never met any really wicked person before. I feel rather frightened. I am so afraid he will look just like every one else." **_**  
**_**― Ocar Wilde, The Importance of Being Ernest.**_

* * *

A shrill, relentless ringing dragged him from unconsciousness. "This had better be good," his voice cracked, unused for a few hours and rusty with sleep. The green light of his alarm clock blinking back eight-thirty am as he squinted at it.

"Oh honey, I wish I had a better reason to be calling you."

"_Please_ tell me this is not a work call?" Groaning, Kurt forced himself into a sitting position, rumpling his already atrocious hair even more, yawning loudly as a soft chuckle came down the other line.

"Sorry stud, we got a case."

"That does not make me want to get out of bed any faster." Sighing, he rolled awkwardly out of bed anyway, stumbling towards his bathroom and wincing at the lights once he turned them on.

"I'll make it worth your while." He could hear the grin in Blaine's voice, smiling widely as he turned the shower on, towel moved to the hook by the shower door for easier access while he waited for the crappy pipes to heat up.

"Sweetheart, you always do."

* * *

Santana met him at the doors to the office, coffees in both hands with a file jammed under her arm and a tired frown on her face.

"That bad?"

She nodded grimly as he sipped the piping hot beverage passed to him, "That bad. C'mon, Shelby wants us all in the conference room in five minutes to be briefed."

The majority of their team was already in the room waiting at the circular table in the centre, Mike and Puck both looking half asleep in their seats as they chugged coffee strong enough that could smell the bitter-sweet liquid from the doorway. Shelby and Blaine walked through the main door, each wearing grim expressions and carrying coffee, files and tablets alike.

"We're going to New York, local law enforcement and social services have contacted the bureau because so far four teens known to frequent a few of the drop-in youth centres the city has, going from Brooklyn Heights all the way up to Midtown have been disappearing and turning up in alleys across the city. Okay, Anderson do your thing."

Blaine nodded, jumping up, remote in hand as images began to filter across the large screen behind him. At the same time identical images were popping up on the screen of the tablets in front of each of them. "So far, all of the victims have been females in their mid to late teens, and all were last seen at one of the drop-in youth centres across the city. The unsub alternates between blondes and brunettes and he keeps them from anywhere between four days up to a week after abducting them, before he does this..."

Pulling a face Blaine brought up a series of close-ups of the images taken by local CSIs, image after image of mutilated bodies flashed across the screen. Each wrapped in plastic and placed, almost artfully, amongst the trash beside alleyway dumpsters all over the city.

"Each girl was held for approximately five to six days, where they were repeatedly cut, stabbed, burnt and faced continuous sexual assault. Our unsub has then been dumping the bodies in secondary locations that cover a vast area of New York. So far there has only been one dump in Brooklyn; the first victim Harmony Peters was found down in the Heights. The rest have all been found pretty much between 44th street all the way down towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Our latest two victims were Sugar Motta, a runaway from a fairly wealthy family in New Jersey, and Marissa Johnson, a street kid from near China Town... Sugar's parents will meet you at the precinct when you get there."

Furrowing his brow, Kurt turned back to his tablet, scrolling the gruesome up-close-and-personal shots of the wounds sustained over the period they were each missing. Shallow and deep cuts alike were scattered over their bodies, along with burns of various sizes and severity. Not one square inch of flesh left was unblemished.

"A lot of the teens who frequent these facilities are runaways like Sugar, street kids like Marissa or just ones who have no where else to go because they're funded by volunteers and donations and they don't require a membership or sign in policy. They target kids and teens from low-income families, give them something to do, somewhere to socialise that keeps them off of the streets. One of the managers I spoke to said it helps them to provide some semblance of security for them, especially for kids who do not want to be found."

Puck frowned, sharing a troubled look with Kurt as he flicked across the images on his personal screen. "Won't that make finding out about them harder? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that the kids don't always give full or correct names to the staff?"

Nodding, Blaine sat back down, his own tablet and the remote placed gently in front of him. "Unfortunately yeah, most of the victims were very, very private about their personal lives in terms of talking to the people who worked there. We only have concrete IDs for them through DNA and matching it to a 'missing persons' report, if one was filed."

"They might not talk to the staff, but that doesn't mean that they don't talk to the other kids." All eyes flicked up to Kurt, Blaine's dark look understanding while the others looked to be varying degrees of confused. "I used to go to one back home. Places like this give anonymity to kids who don't want people to know who they are or why they're there. It makes them feel safe and gives them a place to escape if they can't or don't want to do that at home."

Santana frowned, a hand dropping below the table to give his knee a squeeze before she pulled her own tablet closer scrolling down the lists of centers targeted, as well as witness lists. "Do you think we would be able to get anywhere if we focused more on speaking to the kids then, and not the volunteers?"

"I think it would help, we are more likely to get a better insight into the victims' lives that way. The workers might know enough but, trust me, unless they made a conscious effort not to talk to anyone there, then at least a few of the other kids will know enough random details each to get a bigger picture."

Distracted by the files in front of her, Shelby nodded, starting to pile everything back up.

"Considering the latest body was found yesterday in the early hours of the morning, we can assume that if the unsub has not already picked out his latest vic, that they will definitely be on the hunt. Grab your bags and head to the jet now; we're leaving in twenty minutes. Blaine, you're coming with us this time; grab whatever tech things you'll need to help us find this guy."

* * *

"Hey," Kurt threw himself into one of the seats across from where Blaine sat, book open in his lap despite him not having so much as touched the pages in front of him, let alone turned them. "Are you okay?"

Pursing his lips, Blaine shut the book, setting it on the small table between them before lifting his head to blink up at Kurt. "I don't know, I mean, normally I help by being in my little office, surrounded by computers while you and the others face-off to the bad guys."

"Yeah, but you've come along with us before."

"I know," Kurt stayed silent, two years of working together now, along with being friends outside of the bureau meant that Kurt new Blaine needed to get there on his own, he didn't need to be profiled (at least, not out loud or to his face) and he didn't need to talk out the process like Mike always did, or go to the gun range and 'practice' like Puck.

"I'm just... I only ever really come with you, or become an active part of the investigation if it's a local case, or, you know - a bad one. We both know I'm here because kids, even those from low income homes are pretty much glued to their phones or to social networks at least some of the time and to scour the candid camera footage of them around the city."

Kurt sighed, shifting around to get a bit more comfortable, not entirely sure if this was his cue to start talking or not.

Blaine scrubbed a hand over his face, "This is going to be a bad one isn't it?"

"Yes." Kurt didn't see the point in sugar coating it. Blaine had been around for long enough now that he had seen his fair share of horror stories scattered across the country. "But you're right, the cases involving kids always seem worse, you are not the only one dreading this, sweetheart. I guarantee that Santana will call home at least three times a day to talk to Quinn and get her to hold the phone so she can listen to Cara babble. Mike will do the exact same thing with Tina and their little boys, and Shelby with Beth. It's just human nature."

Clapping his hands to thighs, Kurt stood, hand offered to haul Blaine up. He let out a mocking groan at Blaine's slight weight and smiled brightly when he received a muttered "Oh, shut up," and light elbow jab to his midriff.

"C'mon hot-stuff, Artie's manning the fort for you back home and we're about to do a conference call."

Still smiling to himself, Kurt dragged Blaine over to the main seating area of the jet, Blaine sitting on the free space next to Santana while Kurt perched himself on the arm, all faced towards the open laptop where Artie's face had just popped up on the screen.

"Yo, fellow crime fighters, I got bad news. A missing persons report was filed this morning on a sixteen year old Marley Rose; she's been MIA for approximately sixty-six hours."

Santana let out a breath through gritted teeth, fingers flying over the screen of her tablet where the report was pulled up, "It says her mother filed it after two days; any idea why it took her so long to do it?"

A soft but lightning fast clicking reached their ears as Artie presumably pulled up the details surrounding Marley's disappearance. "Yeah, it looks like Mrs. Rose works two jobs, one as a chef at a local twenty-four hour diner where she works mostly nights, and another one three afternoons a week at thrift store. According to this, she saw her daughter on Monday morning just after she got home and before Marley went to school, texted her on and off throughout Monday and Tuesday, where she had work all afternoon at the thrift store, before going straight to her night job. Marley was apparently meant to be at her boyfriend's Tuesday night so it wasn't until she hadn't heard from her the next morning that her mom began to worry."

Kurt opened up his own copy of the report, zooming in on the photograph of a smiling Marley Rose, obviously a school picture but she was still smiling brightly. "What makes us think this is the same guy?"

"Well, I'm just passing on what Blaine has set up to send alerts to his servers..."

Blaine, who had been pouring through his own tablet, his laptop also open, up and running on his knees as he typed frantically. Files and forms flew across the screen fast enough that it made Kurt dizzy just looking at it for a few minutes.

"She fits the victim type, she's brunette which fits the pattern considering the last vic, Marissa was a blonde, she's of a similar body type to the other girls, around the same age and she's a regular at one of the drop-in centres on the Lower East side. I set up an alert for all missing person reports filed from two days _before _Marissa was dumped, just in case, on girls fitting the victim type, focusing on those with brown hair because of the pattern emerging."

Shelby nodded, looking grim as she often did at work, "Okay, Artie, you keep working with Blaine from Quantico, when we land Blaine and I will head straight to the precinct, Mike I want you and Puck to go the Medical Examiner's office, Kurt and Santana, you two go to the latest crime scene and see what you find there. We need to do our best to find Marley before it's too late."

"Jesus," Santana slammed the car door shut as she climbed out from the passenger side, "I fucking hate the traffic here."

* * *

Rolling his eyes, Kurt rounded the hood to follow her down the alley behind a small, family owned Chinese restaurant on the corner of Canal and Broadway. "He seems to be sticking to Manhattan now; Brooklyn hasn't had any issues with our unsub since Harmony's body was found and Katie Jackson went missing."

"Maybe he realised the distance was more hassle than it was worth? Gotta admit, though, it does make finding and catching the bastard a whole lot easier for us." She grinned over her shoulder at him, before holding the yellow police tape up, gesturing with a sweeping hand and mocking curtsy for him to duck under before her, which he did with a half-hearted glare.

"It amazes me that I can stand you sometimes."

"It's kind of disgusting, isn't it? We hang out outside of work and everything too!" She was still cackling when they reached the detective on scene, "Hey, I'm Agent Lopez and this here is Agent Hummel, what can you tell us?"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Detective Thomas, Sanchez call you in or something?"

"Or something," Kurt shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves. He nodded towards the few CSIs wandering over the alley, taking pictures or bagging anything likely to be a useful piece of evidence "Did they find anything other than the victims DNA this time?"

Thomas shook his head, "It's still only the smudged print found at all the other body dumps, which isn't in any system that we've found so far."

Rolling her eyes Santana moved to the side of a group of dumpsters, to where Marissa's body was found, posed and wrapped in plastic. "So he's evolved into wearing gloves, or he's at least doing something to make it harder to find out who he is."

The detective turned to Kurt, eyebrows so high on his forehead that it was almost comical, "What makes you guys think it's a 'he'."

"The victims do."

"The fact that the victims have all been girls... tells you it's a _guy_ who is killing them?"

"No, but how he tortures and kills them does. He's not just stabbing them once and getting it over with, he's drawing it out, making them suffer. He keeps them for so long because he is getting _something_ out of it; I'm betting that it's sexual release based on amount of cuts and the overkill when he kills them. Knifes are often used by sexual sadists to provide the release they can't get naturally."

Santana lifted up a corner of the soiled cardboard the body was found posed on. "You can also take into account that the plastic only covers the torso and genitalia, it's fashioned to look like a dress. Each body has been found in alleyway, between dumpsters; he's telling us that he thinks of these girls like they're no better than trash. There's also the fact that every single body was posed; on her back, one leg crossed over the other and arms above her head and face titled like she's looking at whoever finds her. It is _meant_ to be sexual, demeaning and nine times out of ten, that means a dude."

"So the guys a wackjob then?"

Kurt rolled his eyes as Santana threw her head back and laughed, "You don't know the half of it, Thomas."

* * *

Shelby and Blaine were finished interviewing the parents of the last two victims when Kurt and Santana made it back to the 12th precinct. Both sat at opposite ends of the table they were using, Shelby poring over what Kurt assumed were files and Blaine typing away one of the three computers surrounding him.

"Kurt! What did you and Lopez find at the crime scene?"

"Pretty much exactly what we were expecting, nothing in the way of any useable DNA, she was found in the alley between two business dumpsters, placed on cardboard and wrapped in clear plastic that, based on the bloodstains on it was what she was killed on. The plastic and cardboard were the only items with _any_ form of forensic evidence found apart from one smudged beyond recognition print from our unsub."

"He is taunting us." Grumbling under her breath, Santana all but threw her jacket onto one of the chairs surrounding the conference table they were using, glaring daggers at the boards, each covered with photos, files and maps alike. "He's leaving the fucking prints on purpose to say that he is smarter than we are, and that we're not going to catch him."

"Wouldn't be too sure about that, Lopez!" Puck leant over her chair as he and Mike strolled in, hands braced on her shoulders as he ignored the unimpressed look she gave him.

"Get your meaty man hands off of me, Puckerman."

"I get the whole, only likin' the ladies thing, but why you gotta hate on the Puckzilla?"

"You're a moron."

Files pushed to one side and fingers rubbing tight circles into her temple, Shelby watched, un-amused as the other two bickered. "Can you two fight on your own time? Mike, what did you two find out at the morgue?"

"He is definitely slipping; she had the same methodical cuts and burns as the other three girls but the actual stab wounds that killed her had massive amounts of overkill, much more than the others." He moved towards the board with all of their collective forensic photographs, pinning up several new ones, including all of Marissa's wounds.

With the blood now washed away, the sheer number of cuts and burns covering her entire body was already clear to be nearly double the amount of the other girls.

San sucked in a hissed breath, eyes wide and unblinking on the pictures in front of them, "Jesus Christ...what the hell happened to make _this _happen?"

"I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say he got pissed for some reason."

"No shit, Sherlock! Remind me again how in the hell _you_ got a job as a profiler, Puck?"

"They are worse than your three year olds, Mike."

"Blaine's right; they are worse than my kids."

"Okay, if you two are done? Then perhaps we can hear the rest of the M.E's findings?"

"As you wish, boss! Michael, carry on m'boy!"

Sniggering, Blaine nudged Kurt and gestured to where Puck was now sitting next to San, occasionally poking her in the ribs. "You went to school with him, right?"

"Please don't remind me, he's still just as big of a pain in the ass as he was back then."

"Guys! Mike, what were you saying?"

"The M.E mentioned that she had far more defensive wounds than the other victims. She fought back, and not just at first like the others but according to the morgue she did not go easily. There are anti-mortem bruises that show she fought back until he killed her."

Kurt slipped his hand under the table to squeeze Blaine's thigh when he felt him tense up. "Good girl."

"Brave girl," Shelby said, getting up to stand in front of the boards decorating the conference room, "Okay, we can't wait around for the unsub to get angry and take it out on Marley. It looks like our best chance of getting to her before the worst happens is to start from the beginning. So what do we know so far about each of the victims?"

"I'm about to go through Marley's online life right now, and I'm still digging up anything I can find on Marissa _but _I can tell you that so far, all of these girls had difficult lives. Harmony was put into the system after her parents died when she was seven, but she ran away from a group home in Oakville, Connecticut, three years ago after allegations of neglect that were never investigated."

Kurt's neck cracked with the speed his head spun back to stare at Blaine, "She ran away when she was twelve?"

"Yeah, um, she started going to the youth-center about a year later, and according to this and a few statements from friends or people she knew from the center, she would either see if she could stay with someone or go to a shelter."

"And what about on nights she couldn't get into a shelter?"

"I have CCTV footage of her sticking close to busier parts of the city or in twenty-four hour diners until the center opened back up when she'd go back and spend the day sleeping. She was as careful as she could be in her position by all accounts."

"What about the next victim," Shelby asked, "Katie Jackson?"

"Seventeen, she was also in the system, a group home from the age of eleven, been in the same one for the last five years," Puck picked a file, opening it to a witness statement, "the woman in charge said that she was a loner more than anything, and Artie has dug up an extremely extensive juvie record for everything from possession of narcotics to breaking and entering." He let a low whistle, "Just, ya know, out of pure curiosity is it _bad_ that as a member of law enforcement I am impressed by how many things there are on this?"

"Yes."

"That's cold, Kurt."

"Mmhm, the um, next victim was Sugar Motta, she came from a wealthy family in New Jersey but ran away three weeks ago, do we know why?"

"Yes, I just spoke with her parents," Shelby leant back on the table, arms crossed and frown lines carved into her brow, "Sugar had Aspergers and as such it made life difficult for her at school. Apparently she was bullied quite a bit and the few friends she did have used her for her parents' money. Her mom says that when she found out she confronted the girls at school, and then when her mother got home Sugar had left with a few belongings and left a note that only said _I need to get away from them all._"

"Marissa was a street kid, been on her own for a good few years, from a single parent home up in the Bronx, according to her mother she left two years ago after failing to talk her mom into checking herself into rehab for alcohol addiction. Hasn't spoken to or seen her since," Mike sighed, "Please tell me you have something on Marley, Blaine?"

"No record, no obvious issues at her school. Her mom and boyfriend are on their way in to answer some questions."

"How long has she been missing now?"

"Eighty-five hours."

"Guys," Detective Thomas stuck his head through the door "Some of Marley's friends are here and so is her mom."

"Right," Shelby stood, clearing all of the files to one side, "Chang, you come with me, we're going to talk to Mrs. Rose, the rest of you can take the friends."

* * *

"Can we get any of you a drink?"

All three teenagers shook their heads; two of them each held the hand of a stricken looking mixed race boy sitting between them.

Santana sat down opposite them slowly, "I take it you're Jake, Marley's boyfriend, right?" she prompted when Jake didn't, or couldn't answer. He nodded sharply, jaw tense and eyes damp. "Look, we know this is hard, but we really need to know everything you can tell us about her, even if it seems irrelevant or stupid, the more we know the easier it will be for us to find her."

The only girl on the sofa let out a disbelieving noise, tears beginning to build up and spill over, "She's been gone for over three days now."

"That doesn't mean we won't find her."

"Yeah, but it does mean that your chances o-of finding her, finding her alive a-are less, right?"

"What's your name, sweetie?" Kurt sat himself on the arm of the armchair Santana was in.

"Unique."

"Okay Unique, I am not going to lie to any of you, you're right. The fact that she has been gone for so long does lower our chances of getting her back alive, but it does not mean you automatically give up on seeing her again." He reached across and took Unique's free, trembling hand in his own, "So anything you can tell us, even if it's just where she likes to go and get a drink after school, can help us catch the man who took her."

Unique nodded, taking her hand back to wipe under her eyes, gratefully taking the tissues Puck handed her as he dragged a chair over, "Why don't we start simple, just tell us who you are and how you all met?"

"Um, I-I'm Ryder, I'm Jake's best friend, we met Marley when we joined our glee club. She was, this quiet chick in the back corner doodling in a notebook until Unique told her to get up and sing with her. She's got an amazing voice - "

"She wants to be a singer; she was writing songs, she has a set of notebooks just for songs." Jake's voice was hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in days, Kurt bit the inside of his cheek when he realised that he probably hadn't, not any large amount of time anyway. "She um, she babysits for her neighbours for cash; she doesn't like her mom being the sole income or something in their home. She always says that it feels wrong not to help her mom out by paying for most of her own clothes or things she wants."

"That's good Jake," Puck glanced over all of them before sharing a grim look with Kurt and Santana, "we know that this unsub is taking girls who go to drop-in style youth centers. Marley goes to one on the Lower East Side, right?"

"Yeah, I went with her sometimes," rubbing under her eyes again to catch any smudged mascara, Unique took a deep breath, "I haven't gone in a while though. It's... she goes after school a lot, it started off as somewhere to go when her mom's working, like when she was 'too old' for a babysitter but Mrs. Rose didn't want her home alone."

"Can I ask why you don't go anymore?"

Her lip wobbled, eyes on the floor as soon as the words left Kurt's mouth while the two boys tensed and seemed to move closer to her. "Um, I-I'm male to female Trans; it...some of guys there didn't want me there. It was just easier and felt safer to go home after school instead if she was going there."

"I walk her home when I don't have football practice, Jake does after they walk Marley to the bus stop when I do."

"Okay, that helps guys, it does," taking a deep breath, Santana glanced sideways at Kurt, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

"We just have one more question and then you guys can go." Leaning forward to brace his forearms on his legs Kurt tried to think of an easy way to phrase it before deciding that there wasn't, and they needed to know everything. "A pattern has come to light with the case, the same way that he's using drop-in centers in low income areas, he appears to be targeting girls with... difficult lives."

Jake frowned, finally looking up at them from staring at his shoes, eyes wet but stubbornly not crying, "Wh-what do you mean? I-I mean she was poor, b-but she wasn't like a runaway or anything like the girls on the news."

"That wasn't what I meant, Jake. All of the victims so far, have had problems in their personal lives. Um, one had a mental disability, another had a substance abuse problem, others were from dangerous home situations... do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Marley wasn't like that and her mom loves her more than anything in the world. Millie wouldn't hurt her."

"I'm not saying she was or that happened, we just need to know if she had any personal issues that might link her to the other girls."

"No, no she -"

"She has an eating disorder." Ryder interrupted, face blank but staring at Kurt, "She um, her mom is big, and Marley was getting comments at school about it being genetic. She was also so careful about what she ate but it just, it sent her over the edge."

"She was getting better! She was, she was seeing a doctor and everything, this isn't - this doesn't mean anything!" Jake stood up violently, hands shaking, "I-I'm sorry I need to get out of here," before he pushed his way through the door and into a waiting Mrs. Rose's arms.

Santana held a hand up to stop him when Ryder made to go after him, "Give him some space, kid. What you told us, what you all did today helps, okay? It can get us closer to finding her."

He nodded, sniffing before walking out after Jake. Unique hung back, tugging on Kurt's arm when they all stood up to leave too, "You should talk to Kitty, she goes to the center, um she's one of Marley's friends from there, she stays at their house sometimes. She'll know things that we don't." She bit her lip again before following the boys and leaving them to return to the conference room, to rejoin Blaine and try to piece together more of the puzzle.

* * *

A soft, hesitant knock sounded through his hotel bathroom just as Kurt finished towelling himself off. Frowning, he shimmied into a pair of loose gym shorts, forgoing a top as another, less hesitant, knock came.

"Alright, I'm com- Blaine?"

Blaine stood on the other side of the door; hair no longer gelled down and dressed in a severely rumpled with purple shadows under his glasses covered eyes. "Hi."

"Hey, come in." Stepping aside, he held the door wider for Blaine to move over the threshold, blinking at the sidelong looks he kept receiving, "Are you okay?"

"Umm, I-I don't know."

"Okay, here," clearing his clothes from that day to the desk chair in the small room, Kurt placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders, squeezing in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, sitting down next to him after he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

"Hotel mini fridges are notoriously expensive, you know."

Laughing, Kurt merely shoved the bottle into his hands, "Eh, it's not like I'm the one who is going to get the bill, is it?"

"I guess not." Another sidelong glance, before Blaine shoved the wire frames slipping down his nose back up and opened the bottle, gulping down a few mouthfuls before Kurt reached out to grip his wrist and tug.

"Honey, you're going to choke, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I, okay, um I don't know where to - okay no, can you _please _put a shirt on or something?"

Dropping his hand from Blaine's arm, Kurt furrowed his brows, "Huh?"

Raised triangular eyebrows and a pointed looked down at his still bare and slightly damp chest had Kurt grinning, jumping up to grab an old _Hummel's Tire and Lube_ t-shirt, so well worn that there were faded patches and a few holes around the hem and neck line. Blaine cleared his throat, flushed just barely, and kept his eyes fixed, determined, on the plastic bottle he was rolling between palms.

"I'm decent," His grin stretched wider as Blaine muttered darkly under his breath, "Are you going to tell me what had you banging on my door at one am?"

"I can't sleep," the words were almost unintelligible, pushed out with a _huff_ of air while Blaine's hands abandon his water in favour of wringing together. "Which doesn't even make any sense because I've seen things like this before, fuck; we've had _worse_ cases and cases where the victim list was so long it looked more like an attendance list..."

"But you still keep seeing the pictures of those girls?"

"Yeah," It sounded weak, like all the energy left in him fled with that one admission. "I can't stop thinking about Marley either."

Wrapping one arm around Blaine's sturdy shoulders, Kurt pulled until his head was resting in the crook of his neck, chin resting against the messy, flyaway curls that Blaine liked to cement into submission every day. "I know."

"She's still with him, Kurt, she's still stuck with him and he's doing all of those _unspeakable_ things to her and she's a baby! They were all just babies!"

"I know, baby, I know," he began to rock Blaine gently, making hushing sounds and just letting him get it all out, because this happened to all of them, cases where it almost became too much and they broke, even if only for a second. It had happened before and it would, no doubt, happen again to each and every one of them. Kurt can remember holding Santana while she fell to pieces over a kidnapping of a four year old in her third year on the team. Puck had held _him_ on their seventh month over an Angel of Death case that hit just a little bit too close to home.

"I believe in the good of people, I don't believe in a God or anything like that, but I believe in people and that _everything_ happens for a reason." He took a shuddering breath, leaning further into Kurt's side, "I can't find a reason for this."

Staying silent, Kurt gently worked on moving them backwards, kicking the covers down every few inches until they reached the pillows and could edge under them. Moving slowly, so as not to dislodge Blaine, who had moved to clinging to him like a limpet, Kurt laid them both down, tugging the duvet up and over them. He pressed his lips to Blaine's forehead, gentle but firm, a reminder that it was okay, that it was normal and that he was there, before he felt Blaine slip under and let himself slip too.

* * *

"Kurt?"

Groaning, Kurt rolled onto his stomach, face pressed deep into a pillow. "Kurt, c'mon we've got to go to work; Shelby wants you to go to the youth center and try and find that Kitty girl."

"What? Um okay, why me?" He shot up, disorientated by the sudden movement and head rush it caused. Blinking owlishly over at where Blaine sat, cross-legged at the floor of the bed, cell in hand.

"I don't know, but you should probably get ready, and umm, I guess I'll go..." He trailed off, skin taking on a barely noticeable pink tinge as he moved to get off of the bed.

"Hey, this doesn't need to get weird, does it?"

"N-no? Why would it, I mean n-nothing happened."

"B,"

"Don't, don't profile me or psychoanalyse me. Please? This isn't anything, and I know that, you were comforting me." Wide brown eyes stared across from him, pleading.

Hands held up in a mock surrender, Kurt relented, climbing out of bed and walking over to where Blaine now stood, back to the desk and mirror, to cup the tops of his arms gently; "This can be whatever _you_ want it to be."

"And what if I don't know what I want it to be?"

"That's okay too." He pressed a quick, dry kiss to Blaine's forehead before moving back to grab some clean clothes and a towel before turning to step through the bathroom doorway. "I'm going to get ready; I'll see you back at the precinct?" At Blaine's nod he moved to shut the door and start getting ready for the day.

* * *

Compared to the other centers, this one looked relatively sturdy; not so much like a strong wind would knock it down but like it would still be there at the end of the world. A bright, smiley blonde woman greeted him at the front desk.

"You're Agent Hummel, right? Hi, I'm Brittany. Someone rang ahead to tell me you were coming, he sounded pretty, but no one said _why_." She offered out a hand to shake, muttering _baby soft hands, _before tugging him around the desk, avoiding ladders and half full paint cans as she lead him past what looked like a rec room and into a slightly smaller one, armchairs, sofas and tables were dotted around, a decent sized TV set in one corner.

"This is about Marley, isn't it?" sitting down, Brittany stared up at him with surprisingly perceptive eyes, "I work with kids day in and out, Agent. Whether it's as their social worker or volunteering here, I've known Marley and her mom since she was eleven, if I can help..."

"I'll be sure to remember that, but I'm actually here about a girl named Kitty? We don't know her last name but apparently she and Marley are good friends, it would be really helpful to talk to her."

"She's eating right now, but after that she normally comes in here by herself for a few hours, I need to go and help Sam out front, you can wait here alone? She'll talk to you; you're a unicorn."

Kurt was still trying to comprehend the 'unicorn' comment when a small, dirty haired blonde came into room stopping short when she saw Kurt, eyes losing some of their sharpness as they darted around the other still empty seats. "Y-you're a cop."

"Is it that obvious?"

"The badge and gun give it away... Why're you here?"

"What's your name? " he made sure to stay sitting, one ankle resting on the other knee, eyes follow who he was now pretty certain to be Kitty.

"Why is that important?"

"It's not really; I just want to talk to someone who knows Marley Rose."

"Y-you're, you're here about Marley?" She moved closer to him, slowly like a frightened animal.

"I am. And, just for the record, I'm not technically a cop." He smiled, soft to keep her trusting, it must have worked because, still moving slow, she edged her way to the armchair opposite Kurt, sinking into it carefully with a death grip on the battered backpack and small, weekend-sized duffle bag.

"I'm Kitty, but you already figured that out. You're not gonna talk me into giving you details that end up with me in care?"

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want; this is just about anything you can tell me about your friend that could help us find her."

"O-okay," She took a deep breath, sliding her tatty Converses off and crossing her legs underneath her and tugging the arms of a grubby looking hoodie that must've been at least three sizes too big for her. "Do you think you'll find her alive?"

"I hope so."

"That's not a yes." She sighed, a hand moving to grip at the matted blonde locks of hair, "Look, I'll answer whatever you questions you have but, can you promise me something? Marley has this necklace; it's a just a gold locket with a picture of her and her dad on her Christening, you need to make sure her mom gets it back. She never takes it off, ever. She's worn it everyday since her first birthday."

They both stayed quiet, Kurt content to wait until she became more comfortable and Kitty alternating between fiddling with the cuffs of her jumper and looking up at Kurt, chewing on her bottom lip before blurting out, "How does this work?"

"How does what work?"

"This... interview or whatever the hell this is?"

"It works however you want it to, we can start with you just talking, or I can ask you questions."

Kitty nodded, tucking her long hair behind her ears. "Do, do you have any idea why he picked her?"

"We have an idea on how he singled her out; he's been targeting girls from low income home situations or high risk life styles."

"The news said he was alternating between abducting blonde or brown haired girls who went to centers like this one." She smiled ruefully, "I might live on the streets but there's a TV here, and I do know how to turn on the News."

"Okay," said Kurt, laughing, "I deserved that. You and Marley hang out here a lot?"

"Yeah, I um, I used to come here sometimes to have a shower and then a few years ago Marley brought in a bag with sandwiches, she had some lame excuse about how her mom made too many and did I want some... I hadn't eaten in four days. She, um, she started doing it every other day when she came, and then one day about two months later, her mom picked her up when I was leaving and she told me I was coming over for dinner. I ended up sleeping on the couch and haven't been able to get rid of her since." She sniffed, scrubbing the back of her hand under her eyes, "I just want my friend back."

"We're going to do everything we can to get her back, you have to trust that."

Large, damp blue eyes snapped up to his, "What if you get her back but it's too late?"

"Then we catch the man behind it, and we make sure he can never hurt anyone ever again." Moving both feet to the ground, Kurt leant forward slightly, ducking a fraction to get Kitty to look at him and not the floor. "What you saw on the news was right; we believe he is finding his victims from centers like these. Just think back for a moment, it sounds like you and Marley spend a lot of your time here together, was anyone here or hanging around outside that didn't belong, or that made you uncomfortable?"

"No. I don't know... guys always make me uncomfortable, comes with the territory."

"Okay," Standing he grabbed a card from his jacket inside pocket handing it to Kitty, holding back a sad smile when she looked at it like it would self destruct in her fingers. "This is a direct line to my team and my personal number is on the other side, I want you to call me if you think of anything or if you just need to talk to someone, okay?"

She bit her lip, not saying anything but when Kurt glanced back as he reached the door he watched her smooth the card out, tracing over the numbers before slipping it into a wallet that had clearly seen better days.

* * *

"I don't suppose there is any chance of you finding anything on Kitty, right?"

Blaine looked up from the desk he'd commandeered, glasses slipping down his slightly crinkled nose, "Without knowing her last name?"

"Yeah, is that going to be an issue?"

"Pssh, c'mon who are you talking to? Mysteries like this are my crack; it just takes a little longer."

"How much longer?"

Blaine opened his mouth, one eyebrow raised and a smirk painted across his face, when Mike poked his head in, grim demeanour automatically leeching the light-hearted atmosphere away. "Marley's body was just found in Tribeca. I'm heading there now with Puck to meet Detective Thomas. Lopez and Shelby are going straight to the medical examiner's."

"Okay, keep us updated, we'll try to find...something here."

Groaning, Kurt slid down in the chair, blazer shrugged off and thrown over the arm, before kicking his feet up onto the conference table. _"Fuck!"_

"We'll find him." A soft hand squeezed his ankle quickly, before typing picked back up.

"Yeah, but when? After he grabs another girl?"

"We will find him. Remember what I said last night?"

Kurt dropped his hands from his eyes, looking pointedly over at the other man, "I thought you were pretending that last night didn't happen."

"Don't be an asshole." He glared until Kurt raised his hands to motion for him to carry on, "I said I believed in people, in the good in them."

"I don't think this guy has any good in him, not even deep, _deep_ down."

"You know I'm not talking about the unsub. I'm talking about _you_, Kurt, you and the rest of this team, the whole fucking precinct. I believe in us and the things we do; so we _will_ catch this guy."

"Kurt, I think I might have something."

Looking up from the mound of reports and files the M.E and CSIs had sent over, to see Blaine, with his gaze unblinking on one of his computer screens. "What?"

"I have something, it's really crappy but I found some footage from the alley where Marley was dumped." Kurt sat up, rolling his chair hastily next to Blaine, crashing ungracefully into his side, ignoring the rolled eyes he got in favour of looking at where he pointed instead. "Okay, see here? That's the only half way decent angle I could get of the entrance to it, it's from an ATM across the street so it's a bit out of focus but I did what I do, and abracadabra," he tapped a key, moving back to watch as a white, unmarked van rolled to a stop, the angle slightly awkward in terms of identifying the man opening the side door, but perfect to see him lift an unmoving girl from the back. More clicking and the image zoomed in and refocused on the bloody and bruised face of Marley Rose.

"It's not perfect; I can't get a clear shot of his face or anything but I think I might be able to get close enough to get most of the numbers on the van's plate."

"Blaine... you did it."

"I, I didn't really."

He just looked so earnest, eyes wide, wider than normal through the glasses he was wearing after last night's crying, and bottom lip worried between his teeth. So Kurt grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him forward, lips pressing together before he pulled back, forehead resting against Blaine's, smiling brightly at the dazed look on his face, "No, B, you did, you got us so much closer to finding him."

The sound of his phone ringing snapped him back to the present, staring at Blaine for a moment longer, hoping that the fact that they needed to talk about everything as soon as the case was closed came across in his eyes before he slid his thumb across the screen, "Hummel."

"Uh...i-it's Kitty, um Kitty Wilde, f-from this morning?"

"I remember, are you okay?"

"I'm, I'm outside the precinct... co-could you..." she trailed off, sniffling and breath hitching too much to keep talking so Kurt stood up, mouthing that he'd be back to Blaine before grabbing his blazer and turning to leave.

"Of course, I'm coming out now okay?" Bright June sunshine greeted him outside the building, shadowed by the others surrounding it but leaving enough so that the bench next to the payphone he could see Kitty standing in front of was not in a shaded area. "I can see you."

Kitty's eyes were bloodshot, her face damp and she looked slightly more rumpled than she had early that morning. "Do you want to come inside, or just sit down?"

"S-sit down." They sat in silence for several minutes, Kurt content to people watch before he felt Kitty shift and turned to look at her. She had her hands in her lap, sleeves still pulled over her hands, "I remembered something, I d-don't know if it'll help. Brittany, she um, she said that you found Marley's body?" She took a deep breath at Kurt's slow nod, hands trembling before balling into fists inside the sleeves. "There was this guy, every couple of weeks the center gets some volunteers from a free clinic in midtown to come and they do like, tests, screenings and you can get a check up."

"Okay,"

"T-there was a new guy, like, last month I think? Maybe before then, but he was creepy. He wasn't a doctor, but they have some people who come with them to fill out forms and get everything organised, it's supposed to help them have time to see everyone. But he kept staring too long at some of the girls, and he was, like way too interested in your medical and family backgrounds. I - I only saw that one once, after that I told Marley I didn't trust him and that we should only see the female doctors and volunteers."

"That was a smart move, Kitty,"

"Not smart enough - I _should_ have said something sooner, I felt off even before we sat down to talk to him, I shouldn't have waited because now it's too late."

Shaking his head, he turned to take one of her shaking hands between his, "Kitty, look at me, it is not your fault, and it is _not_ too late. This is really helpful, it means we can pull records because you can't volunteer, especially in a medical manner and not have a record somewhere, we can find him before he hurts someone else. We can stop him."

She sniffed again, blinking to stop the few tears that leaked out, "Okay," she stood up, shocking Kurt when he did by throwing her arms around his middle, whispering a _thank you_ into his shoulder before she pulled back, looking at the floor and moving away.

It wasn't until he was nearly inside that he recognised the white, unmarked van that had idled several cars down on the street while they spoke.

* * *

"You should go back to the hotel and rest."

Shooting Blaine an unimpressed look, Kurt used the black screen of his phone to check the bruised, medically glued-shut cut across his right cheek, "I'm fine, it's not even bleeding anymore, see?" He moved to stand over where Blaine sat, laptop in front of him open on the security footage showing Kitty being grabbed and thrown into a van, and then Kurt taking aim and shooting a tire out, and a corner of the windscreen before being clipped in the side, and hitting the ground.

"I have had worse than a cut and a few bruised ribs."

Placing one hand on the desk, the other on his hip he glanced down to see Blaine looking up at him over the top of wire framed glasses and a disbelieving look on his face. "Ya know, grey hairs and wrinkles have a direct correlation to stress and _unnecessary _worrying."

Looking down again to see Blaine eyeing him from over the top of his glasses once more, lips twitching to hide his smile, Kurt bit back his own smile and lightly shoved his shoulder, "Oh, shut it, you." He smiled briefly, rolling his eyes at the other man before looking back to the screen. "I am _fine,_ it's Kitty I'm worried about, so can you please save me the lecture about going up against a speeding ton of metal until _after_ we get her back?"

Grumbling under his breath, Blaine kicked the chair next to him out, not looking or saying anything when Kurt gratefully sank down into it. "I'm digging up everything I can find on Kitty's life easier, now that we know her last name; she didn't lie to you either, and I got some pretty good shots of the unsub grabbing her, I'm just waiting for Artie to work on them a bit while I do this."

* * *

Kitty coughed violently as she came to, a throbbing, pulsing sensation in her head making her moan as she fought the urge to vomit. _It's too cold_ was the first thing she registered after the pain, it was the middle of June, it was never this cold until at least the end of October. Forcing her eyes open, she rolled her head to the side, biting back a scream at the dank, grey, fibreglass looking walls that surrounded both sides, boxing them in effectively, streaked with a dirty, thick brown substance that had her stomach rolling again. It wasn't until she jerked away from the wall, as if she could move away from the oppressive copper smell that she realised it wasn't the pain in her head making it hard to move; she was strapped to a table, clear plastic spread beneath her, wrists and ankles cuffed to each corner wearing only her tank top and the pair of shorts she always wore under her jeans.

For one hysterical moment, the thought that _this explains why I'm cold_ was all that ran through her head.

"Hello there, Kitty."

* * *

"Okay people; tell me everything you know about Kitty." Shelby clapped her hands, demanding their attention from where she stood in front of their case boards, "I want to know why he took her and I want to know how we get her back. He's getting angrier, and while he might be starting to slip, that isn't necessarily a good thing for Kitty."

"Fifteen, she was originally from a small town in Massachusetts, she was molested by a friend's brother when she was six, her family believed her and made complaints with the police but nothing was ever proven or done," Santana's jaw tensed as she read that part, Kurt himself had to refrain from hitting something, "It looks like she went through hell at school so much that she became depressed, her parents got her help and moved schools."

Puck pinned an old transfer report to the board, "Everything was cool until Kitty turned ten, when on a family vacation they got into a car wreck, Kitty had some major internal bleeding and they had to remove her spleen, but her dad died on impact... it says here her mom was in a coma for a few weeks before being declared legally brain dead. Kitty moved in with her grandfather but he had Dementia, she hadn't been seen since he stopped being able to recognise her when she was almost twelve. No family left, so she was in care while her grandfather was in a home."

"I found him!" Blaine's shout from the end of the conference table drew everyone's attention to him, "Marcus Day, twenty-seven he's a temp for a company in midtown, lives alone, and was in and out of juvie for multiple accounts of aggravated assault, a few arrests since then for domestic violence, where he threatened a girlfriend with burning and more assault. _Shit,_ two months ago, he had a restraining order placed on him by an ex girlfriend and her best friend...his girlfriend was blonde and the friend who, by all accounts talked her into filing it was a brunette."

Puck let out a low whistle as he moved to look over Blaine's shoulder. "Fucking hell, in his senior year of high school he was arrested for attacking two friends, a blonde and brunette, after they both turned him down. Apparently he had a knife was 'ranting about their dirty little secrets' and how 'they're not as perfect as everyone thinks' and that they needed to be taught a lesson, be taught that they were not 'above everyone else'."

He looked up at them, face pale and blank, "The bastard is going after these girls to, what, finish what he couldn't in high school? He's going after girls with problems in their private lives to show everyone their 'dirty little secrets'. The fact that they all go to the centers is just how he finds them, he's only taking them once he finds out their past from the health forms!"

Mike let out a low whistle, "I think we just found our stressor, getting dumped by a girl similar to one he tried to attack must have set him off. Do we know where the girlfriend and friend are?"

"Yeah, they are both down in Florida and have been since the report. Apparently the friend got a job down there to be closer to family and the girlfriend went with her. Looks like she got a fresh start."

* * *

A hot, searing heat dragged her back from the welcoming edges of darkness, screaming, Kitty tried and failed to keep her meagre breakfast down at the smell of burning flesh, turning her head to puke over the side of the medical bed.

Sobbing, she tried to catch her breath, wishing from the black again. "Why're you doing this?"

"You know why." It was still the same answer, a gruff, hate filled voice coming from a face she could never quite see through the haze of pain and blood.

A stinging that dug deeper until she could feel the blood pooling together around the newest wound, distracted her for a second from the burn. It was almost wanted, the distractions, but they just kept coming. Burns to pull the focus from the cuts, stabbing to draw attention from the burns, and cuts to take the heat away from the stabbing.

* * *

Standing up, Kurt rolled his shoulder, keeping a straight face as Santana eyed his slightly stiff movements. "It's been six hours, please,_ please_ tell me we're getting closer to finding where the bastard took her?"

"Kurt," He jerked away from Mike's calming touch, not wanting or needing anyone to placate him right now.

Puck stood up, "C'mon, we all need some coffee." He replaced the softer touch of Mike for a firm grip, marching Kurt from the room and down the hall to the coffee machine.

"I don't want a drink."

"Tough, I do and you need to get out of that damn room."

"No, what I need is to find Kitty."

"And you will, but not running on fumes, so take a deep breath and sit yo' ass down before I make you."

Kurt did, jaw tense and body coiled, ready to spring into action at the smallest sign while Puck banged around with the coffee maker, providing two cups of mediocre filter coffee. "This tastes like ass."

"Thought you liked the taste of ass." It was only the sidelong look over his coffee, eye brows wiggling and a smirk fighting to come free that made Kurt hold back from punching him, letting his own lips twitch for a second before the mood darkened again. "It wasn't your fault; you were paying attention to Kitty, not to the cars on the street."

"I should have noticed."

"You did, Kurt, you noticed and because of that we know she's gone; no one would file a missing persons report on her, no one would know."

He nodded, his neck tight and eyes glazed as he replayed the moment he realised where that odd sense of déjà vu was coming from, and hearing the muffled scream before a car door slammed and breaks screeched.

"Guys," Mike called from the end of the hall, "we think we got him. Let's go,"

* * *

After the third time she was jolted back from the comfort of unconsciousness, Kitty realised that all the screaming, all the crying, begging, _pleading_ for her life was doing nothing. He seemed immune to it all, content to carve her skin to ribbons, his black eyes flashing every time she screamed.

Her clothes were non-existent now, shredded and stained with her blood, sweat and bile in a pile under the table, leaving her in just an old faded bra and boy-shorts. Goosebumps covered her convulsing body, despite how clammy and warm her skin felt.

"They're g-gonna find you."

This time she bit her tongue, inside of her lips, cheek, _anything_ to not scream as the red glowing tip of a soldering iron pressed down onto her collar bone. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction; she'd go down swinging if she had to, for Marley if not for herself.

"K-Kurt saw you take me. He, he'll find you."

She couldn't quite hold back the muffled yell when he pressed the iron down again in time with pressing one of the knives, she'd lost count a while ago of how many he'd used, an inch or two into her side. She could feel her body arching, twisting in unnatural ways to try and get away from the pain, convulsing viciously when it couldn't, but she kept her eyes locked on his the entire time; daring him to do it, to finish it, to kill her while she watched him.

"You're a coward."

* * *

"Okay, everybody stay alert, we're not entirely sure where abouts he'll be in the warehouse, but we can assume that he will be armed and that Kitty is in there with him. We do not, repeat _not_ want anything to happen to her. So if you have a shot and it looks like we won't be able to bring him in alive, take it." Puck called out clearly from where he stood near the back entrance to an abandoned warehouse in the Lower East Side. "Agents Corcoran, Chang and Detectives Sanchez and Thomas will be heading the team taking the front entrance, Hummel, Lopez and myself this one, follow our lead and remember that we do not want him to know we are coming."

He nodded to the S.W.A.T agent by the door, going in first, gun and torch held up before moving forward to allow Kurt, Santana and the S.W.A.T members to follow. It was almost unnaturally still inside, the smell of damp, mould and copper filling the drafty air until a broken scream shattered the air towards the middle of the structure.

Moving as quickly and silently as they could, they swarmed forward, surrounding the three pop-up walls in the centre of the building. Kurt kept his eyes on where Puck and then Shelby stood, backs to the wall, counting down on fingers until they both reached three, coming around the open side of the box shaped area, shouting _"FBI!" _

Kitty was lying on a metal, medical table, unconscious with her head lolling to the side. Clear, blood smeared plastic underneath her bare body, more blood pooling fresh in some areas, cooling to a tacky, brown mess in others, the smell of copper mixed with burnt meat was thick in the air while Marcus Day moved to stand at her head, a gun in hand and pointed at the agents blocking his exit.

"Put the gun down, Marcus," He could hear himself speaking, hear the commands and practiced words leaving his mouth but his eyes never left Marcus or a prone Kitty beside him, constantly judging how quickly he could take him down, could get her safe. "We don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"No! NO! Get, get back, get back or I'll kill her!" He sounded deranged, hand shaking with rage or fear, Kurt didn't know, but he knew a trigger happy finger could end in another teenage girl being a victim.

"You and I both know if your finger so much as twitches near that trigger, I'll put a bullet between your eyes before you can aim."

He could feel Puck and Mike both closing ranks, barely noticeable to anyone else, but he'd been working with them, placing his life in their hands and theirs in his for so long, it felt like muscle memory. When Marcus raised the gun a centimetre higher, Kurt cocked his, still aimed perfect between two black eyes, "You don't want to do that, you don't want it to end this way."

"You're right, I don't." A loud _**bang**_ rocked the room, jerking Kurt's left shoulder back sharply for a moment before he squeezed and Marcus dropped to the floor, a narrow river of red trickling from the bullet buried between his eyebrows.

Santana and Mike were moving before the ringing that followed stopped, Mike checking the body and Santana untying Kitty, covering her with her FBI jacket, and checking her pulse, "Get a medic! She's still alive!"

It wasn't until Puck's face swam into focus that Kurt even registered the pain in his shoulder, looking down in an absent minded sort of fascination to see blood leaking from a bullet wound just below his clavicle and mere centimetres from the arm hole of his bullet proof vest.

"We're gonna need another medic!" Puck shouted over his shoulder.

"'m fine,"

"I know, I'm still getting a medic though."

* * *

A loud, ongoing knocking jerked Kurt out of his sleep and into a sitting position, hissing when it jogged his strapped up arm. He briefly considered trying to go back to sleep seeing as he had to get up early to go to the hospital to see Kitty, before having his things moved to Fin and Rachel's place. Shelby strong-armed him into during a morphine haze, to take a week minimum off. He still can't quite figure out exactly _how_ she talked him into taking time off.

He dragged himself over to the door, not giving a fuck that he'd neglected to put a top on under the sling pinning his arm to his side (it was uncomfortable enough as it was, let alone to sleep in). He yanked the door open, stepping aside quickly for Blaine to storm in.

If it wasn't so late and Kurt wasn't still half asleep, or doped up on the last dregs of hospital grade pain killers, he'd probably have found the look on Blaine's face to be hilarious; like he couldn't decide between being livid or pleased that Kurt was okay.

"You got shot."

"Yeah," Kurt sat on the end of the bed, blinking to wake himself up a tad more as Blaine paced, agitated, in front of him. "B, I've been shot before."

"Yeah, but _normally,"_ he whirled around to glare at Kurt, "normally, it's in your vest and you just have, like...like a bruise or something! The whole time that I have been part of this team you've never actually gotten yourself _shot!"_

"Blaine, I'm okay, I'll be fine in a few weeks; it was just my shoulder."

Blaine shook his head, coming to a stop in front of where Kurt sat, seeming to loose some of the fire, "You don't get it."

"Don't get wh-"

Blaine moved forward, careful of Kurt's left side, and kissed him, not moving back when Kurt gasped into it, but forward, pressing their lips together more insistently and letting his tongue flick forward fleetingly into Kurt's still open mouth before he pulled back, mouths separating with a soft noise.

"You're not allowed to put me through that again, understand?"

Slightly bemused, Kurt nodded, his one good hand now limply cupping Blaine's hips. Shaking his head, like he was trying to dislodge water from his ears, Kurt blinked rapidly and opened his mouth.

"No talking." Blaine moved to straddle Kurt's thighs, ever careful about Kurt's shoulder and bruises from being hit by a car, one hand stroking over the cut on his right cheek before kissing him again.

"But...are you s-_fuck,_ sure?"

Blaine chuckled against Kurt's mouth, "Will you _shut_ up, and let someone take care of _you_ for once?" A hand slid down his bare chest slowly, taking time to stroke, trace and caress every hint of a bruise marring his pale skin, before moving to cup Kurt through his thin, academy sweatpants. "Just let me look after you tonight."

"Okay."

Blaine grinned, placed another smacking kiss to Kurt's mouth before moving to trail kisses along his jaw, lips catching on his five o'clock shadow. "I've had a crush on you since I joined the team," he nibbled on Kurt's ear lobe, grinning against his neck when he let out a choked of moan. "You, Santana and Puck were working on a case and you shouted _Hey, hot stuff,_ across the room and asked if I was the new techey. You were _unfairly_," he squeezed Kurt's rapidly hardening cock for added emphasis, "good looking in that suit."

"I remember." Kurt panted, thanking the hospital grade drugs still working their way through his system when he tried to use both hands to grip Blaine's ass. He made do by slipping his one good hand down the back of Blaine's pants, gripping his bare ass and tugging him closer.

Sentences soon faded into barely distinguishable monosyllable words, grunts and moans in favour of getting closer, closer and removing as many clothing-form barriers as possible. Kurt awkwardly worked Blaine's polo up and off while the other man seemed surgically attached to his neck and collar bone, marring the skin with occasional bites, licks and deep sucking kisses.

"B, B c'mon..."

Without answering, Blaine shifted back on his knees a scant few inches, cutting of Kurt's whining protest when he moved to map out his chest, gently pushing until Kurt laid down, mumbling "Be easier like this."

Blaine shifted back further eventually, having covered the skin of Kurt's upper torso twice over, he slipped down and off of Kurt's lap, knees landing on the carpet beneath with a muted _thud._ He grinned up at Kurt as he placed gentle, loving pecks over each bruise, teasingly working his way down to his navel, trailing his tongue around Kurt's belly button, dipping in fleetingly before mouthing down the trail of hair leading to the waistband of his sweatpants.

"_Christ._"

Blaine didn't even remove his pants completely, just pulled them down far enough to take in the lack of underwear beneath them and push them down to Kurt's calves. Smiling brightly, eyes flicking to where Kurt had pushed himself back into a seated position, eyes glued to his, he licked from his balls up to the head, sucking it for a second. "Decided to forgo underwear today, Agent Hummel?"

To say he didn't feel proud to what Kurt's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, would be a lie. "Too...too _shit, _complic_aaa_ted w-with a sling, _God Blaine!"_

Still smiling widely, Blaine winked, ducking down to lick over the head of Kurt's cock, humming at the taste of the precome beading there before sinking down over it, both men groaning.

He could feel Kurt's stomach muscles clenching, his free hand tangling itself into Blaine's broken free curls for something to hold on to. Somehow remembering that it can't be comfortable for Kurt, no matter how turned on he sounds whenever Blaine hollows out his cheeks and _sucks_ his way back to the tip, he slipped the arm not wrapped around one of Kurt's gorgeous thighs to support his back. Hand splayed as wide as it could over twitching, rippling muscles as Kurt's hips started to rock minutely of their own accord.

The hand tugging on his hair got tighter as Kurt's moans, whimpers and grunts increased. "'m close, B, I'm _uuh_, close."

Unravelling his arm from Kurt's thigh and letting it fall to his lap, pressing down hard on his own straining dick, Blaine focused on doubling his efforts.

"Let go," he muttered, pulling off to mouth down the shaft, nibbling on Kurt's balls before cupping them and working his way back up, "let me take care of you."

"_Fu-uck." _Kurt came just as Blaine closed his lips back around the head, sucking hard and squeezing his balls lightly at the same time, groaning himself at the feel of Kurt yanking on his hair as he painted the inside of Blaine's mouth.

Pulling off, gasping into Kurt's stomach, his hand frantically resumed its pressure before it was rudely yanked away. He opened his mouth to protest when Kurt, (how he had no idea, not after coming and only having one arm) pulled him back into his lap, slamming their lips together and prying open Blaine's for a deep kiss of all teeth and tongue. He reached down, popped the button of Blaine's high waters, pulling his cock out of his briefs and stroking, firm, twice before Blaine was crying out against him, sticky white come dribbling down Kurt's fingers as they collapsed against each other.

Blaine wasn't sure how long it took to come back down to Earth but he did eventually, both men now lying face up on the bed, legs crossed over each other in the middle. Groaning, Blaine wriggled out of his pants, pushing them down off the bed to where Kurt's must have been kicked before they laid down.

Rolling off of the side of the bed, waving a hand at Kurt's mumbled "_come 'ack", _he stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. He grabbed a washcloth, wetting it and cleaning himself up quickly before moving back to the bedroom to wipe off Kurt's hand and stomach, chucking it towards the bathroom door and crawling into bed when he was done. He poked at a half-asleep Kurt until he could pull the covers up over them both, letting Kurt get comfortable on his back before crowding in, head on his uninjured shoulder and drawing invisible doodles over his skin.

He smiled as he felt Kurt shift as if to start talking and yawned into his peck, pressing a damp kiss there before speaking into his chest. "We'll talk about it in the morning, just know, if you _ever_ do something like this to me again? I'll shoot you myself."

* * *

_**"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness." **_

_** ― Desmond Tutu**__**.**_

* * *

_It may be turning into a verse, depending on how people like it._

_p.s. the next part of Lego House is on it's way, it's just taking a while, it can't be anything other than perfect. _  
_also - I'm trying to be spoiler free, so don't let anything slip._


End file.
